Don't Worry
by Lindir
Summary: Matt Hardy has always had a protective streak in him, but now it's starting to tear him up inside.


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Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. 

Don't Worry   
by katanashi 

Note: Sort of a Matt/Lita story, but mostly a Matt introspection. Takes place on Smackdown 6/14.   
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Matt Hardy rubbed his neck in irritation as he trudged along the backstage. "I could use a shower," he groaned.

Lita, walking next to him, gave him a concerned look. "You've had a hand on your neck ever since we made it backstage," she said. "Do you want to go to the medics to have them check it out?"

Matt shook his head. "I'm fine, really," he lied. In truth, his neck and his back were killing him. He wasn't sure what he had done to hurt then, but it was probably K-Kwik knocking him against that top turnbuckle near the end of the match. That and the shot he'd been given after he'd narrowly managed to keep from running into Lita, who'd been on the ropes arguing with the ref. 

Lita. The best thing that ever happened to him in his life. She always seemed to know exactly what he needed, whether it was a hug to counter a bad day, or a screaming match to get his pent-up rage out. She just had this uncanny sense of what he was feeling at the time.

No, it was more than that. She knew him. She'd seen him through all the good and the bad, the triumphant and the embarassing. And she'd stayed by him. Jeff had stayed by him too, but Jeff was his brother; they were linked by blood. Lita wasn't bound to them by anything other than gratitude for rescuing her from Essarios, and even then that was hardly anything. So he'd been surprised, to say the least, that she had stuck by them for so long. And with that very memorable kiss, he finally understood why. 

Even though the relationship was a dream come true for him, with it came nagging worry. Where was she if she wasn't there in her room at midnight? Was she at the club or was she lying in the street somewhere? He kept himself from becoming insanely protective, but he and Lita had their disagreements occassionally, which usually ended with him as the loser. He didn't want to hurt her. He had never liked to see a girl get hurt.

He knew that some of the people regarded him as a softy. After all, most of the other wrestlers wouldn't have stopped their attack just because their girl was on the ropes. But Matt had felt his heart jump to his throat when he realized that he would be running into Lita, hitting her with all the force he'd gained off the ropes, and knocking her to the ground. So he'd checked his momentum, motioning for her to get off the ropes. K-Kwik had taken advantage of it and nailed him with a shot to the head, but Matt had hardly felt it. All that mattered was that Lita was safe.

He never wanted to see people he cared about get hurt.

Like Jeff. His little brother. Ever since they were kids, Matt had worried about Jeff. Jeff was no wimp, but he was such a high flyer. Every time he landed a Swanton bomb, every time he pulled one of those crazy corkscrews, Matt could feel that fear rising in him again. What if Jeff broke his back? What if he landed on his head? What if Jeff landed wrong and became maimed for the rest of his life? Jeff scared him to death with those insane moves. The Swanton bomb was actually a toned down version of what Jeff had been originally planning to attempt. Then Jeff fell on his neck while attempting to learn the move, and Matt put his foot down, insisting that Jeff pick a different, easier move. Even the corkscrew, which was really just a simple gymnastics twist, gave Matt a bad taste in the mouth. Especially in that cage match where Lita had pulled the Hurricarana off the ladder on Christian. Jeff had jumped over fifteen feet in a huge corkscrew, knocking down both him and Edge. It freaked Matt out, but Jeff had been pulling this stuff for over twenty years, and he always come out alive and intact. Matt had managed to get used to it, more or less.

No, it was Lita's safety that worried him the most.

He couldn't always keep her safe. He knew that. She put herself in danger for him and Matt, for Team Xtreme, because that was the kind of person she was. She'd gone into the ring during that TLC match to shove the ladder over and give them a chance that they had failed to capitalize on. He worried constantly that a ladder might fall on her, or one of the wrestlers would take a shot at her. And that cage match where Lita had pulled a spectacular Hurricarana off the ladder on Christian. She'd taken Christian out, but she had hurt herself too. He had been angry, angry that Lita had been forced to hurt herself just so they could win. He could still remember that sense of grim satisfaction as he and Jeff hit Edge with that Con-chair-to. 

But he had failed to protect her on more than one occasion. Once, Rhyno had gored her, and sent her to the hospital. He and Jeff had gotten revenge on the brute for that, but still…if he'd only been there to stop it, then she wouldn't have been in that bed, pale as the sheet of her bed. Worst of all was Stone Cold Steve Austin.

Matt's fists tightened involuntarily as he remembered. The bruises, the searing pain, and the sheer fury that he'd felt against himself for not being able to protect her. The abuse she'd taken that night was too much. A Pedigree from Triple H and numerous shots to her head were already pushing the limit, but Austin's crazed chair shots were the final straws. He had been too beat up protect her; in the end, it was Lita who protected him. He recalled feeling her body inching onto his, so that her body covered his and protected it. He had heard dimly the announcers screaming at Stone Cold. And then he heard a sound that made his blood run cold, the sound of a fully-impacted chair shot against Lita's body. His girl's body. A shot that was meant for him. Over and over again he heard that sickening thud. Over and over again he struggled to stand, to even move. But he couldn't. He was spent. And he cursed himself all the more for it. He had half-hoped Jeff would be able to come and rescue them, but he knew that Jeff was beat up as bad, if not worse, than himself.

"Matt? Honey?" He turned his head to meet her gaze. She was worried about him. She shouldn't have to worry about him. He was the one who should do the worrying.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice low. 

"You're not fine," she said flatly, stopping and putting her hands on her hips. "You're limping again, you haven't let go of your neck still, and you've got that guilty look all over your face again."

"I do?" He feigned an innocent look.

Lita gave him a look of exasperation. "Matt Hardy, don't you dare pull that on me." She pulled him to a nearby chair. "What's wrong with you?"

"I told you," he said, irritated. "Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just tired."

"Uh huh. Spill it."

Oh no. She had that stubborn look on her face again, the look that said she was absolutely not going to budge until she found out every little bit of what was going on. He wondered in the back of his mind how he was going to get out of this situation. Sighing, he ran a hand through his long hair. He hated getting into arguments with Lita, but he couldn't really see any way around one this time. 

As he opened his mouth, he was suddenly interrupted by the sound of pattering feet. A second later, he was sprawled off his chair, with Lita's arms wrapped protectively around him as she shouted at whoever had stolen the folding chair.

"Can't you just ask next time, you jerk?!" Lita yelled. She huffed and helped Matt to his feet, brushing her hand by his face tenderly. "Are you okay?" 

He nodded and turned away, unable to bear the worry of her eyes. She shouldn't have to worry about him.

"Let's get to the TV room. It's the closest, and I don't think there'll be anymore maniacs running around grabbing chairs out from under people," Lita said, slinging his arm over her shoulder. He nodded, clutching his neck again.

"Who was it?" he asked, wincing as they finally reached the crowded little room and she let him sit down on the couch.

"Jericho, I think," she replied. "I have no idea what the idiot's up to."

"You mean what Austin's up to," Jeff commented dryly. 

Both Lita and Matt looked up in surprise. The normally cheerful purple-haired young man didn't look happy.

"What's that bastard up to now?" Matt asked. He struggled to repress the memories threatening to arise again, of Austin beating Lita, the chair shots, the pain she was in…he shook his head savagely, willing the thoughts away. 

"Deja-vu, man, and it's not a good one." Jeff gestured to the screen.

Matt's breath caught in his throat. "What the hell is Spike Dudley doing out there?" he demanded. "The kid doesn't stand a chance!"

"Austin called Molly Spike's 'bimbo girlfriend', and Spike ripped up Austin's petition," Jeff said. "You can guess what that led to."

"Oh no." Matt's hand tightened unconciously around Lita's as he watched Austin hit Spike repeatedly with the chair, broadsiding him and using the edge for more direct attacks. All in all, it was a brutal assault. And all the while, Molly watched from the ringside, pacing frantically up and down. Matt could tell that the girl was going crazy with worry and indecision. Silently, he urged her to stay put, but he knew that it was a lost cause. He knew what it was like, to not care about your own safety as long as it stopped the torture of the one you cared most about.

"Sick bastard," someone growled next to him. It was Kane, his face still hidden behind the mask. "Sick, sick bastard."

Matt rose suddenly and stumbled to the door. 

"Matty, where you going?" Jeff asked at once, running to his big brother's side. He noticed Matt's hand on his back. "You should really get some help, Matt. If you get hurt--"

"I'm fine." Matt's voice was low and curt.

Jeff frowned. Matt wasn't acting like himself. And when Matt wasn't acting right, then something had to be wrong, other than the injury. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." 

Jeff rolled his eyes. Standard Matt response. "What-ever. Go sit down. I'm not going to move, and you know you can't fight me off the way you are now."

Matt didn't answer. Jeff waited, and waited. Finally, he sighed and opened the door. "Let's to talk outside, Matt." 

Matt didn't protest as he limped out the door. Jeff nodded to Lita and closed the door, only to see his brother sink to the floor with a look of despair on his face. Matt wasn't someone who was depressed. He was a positive person, always looking at the brighter side of things, always encouraging and comforting. It was always Matt who took care of Jeff, not the other way around. "Matty," he said quietly. "What's going on?"

Matt drew a shuddering breath. "I can't watch." He paused, then added in a hateful voice, "I hate Austin."

Jeff shrank back from the pure venom in Matt's voice. 

"I hate how he brutalizes women. How he can trash them and leave them half for dead, how he beats the people they care about and laugh in their faces. He doesn't have an ounce of decency, of respect in him for women, not even his own wife. He treats her like trash; she's not even a person to him. She's just someone he screws whenever he feels like it and looks pretty on his arm during promos." 

Jeff sighed. He knew what was bothering Matt. "Matt, when are you going to forgive yourself for what happened against Austin, Hunter, and Stephanie?"

"Never." Matt shook his head miserably. "How can I, Jeff? How do you explain it? Lita was almost beaten to death by Austin, and all I could do was lie there in a heap. In the hospital…I couldn't look, Jeff, I couldn't. It was all my fault, because I couldn't protect her. I couldn't even do anything after I recovered, because I was scared of Austin. Someone has to go after him-- look what's happening now. Molly's going to get the tar beaten out of her. And if I'd just stepped up-- dammit, Jeff!-- if I could just get the courage up to go after the bastard, then maybe Lita wouldn't have gotten hurt, and maybe if I'd just been stronger, I wouldn't have been out after some cheap chair shots--"

"Those cheap chair shots broke your ribs and caused some serious internal injuries," Jeff said in a clipped tone. "How much stronger do you want to be? Matt, how can you think this? You're being a brainless idiot again. Are you really scared of Austin, or are you just scared that he'll come after Lita and not you again? Are you just angry because she got the hell beaten out of her when you didn't? That's not true, Matt. We all got beaten bad, but Austin was a sick, raving, psychotic lunatic that night, and everyone knows he's gotten worse. You heard Kane. He hates him too. A lot of people hate Austin. But why doesn't anyone go after him? Because Austin's got McMahon on his side, Matt. Nobody wants to screw their careers or their hides over something that can be so easily overlooked. Austin's time is running out, Matt. You know it is. You've seen Jericho and Benoit beat the hell out of Austin three times in the last month."

"But--Lita--how the hell can I protect her, Jeff? How?" Matt looked miserable. "I can't protect her…she ended up protecting me. How the--"

The door burst open. "That's enough, Matt Hardy!" Lita cried out, tears evident in her eyes. "I can't believe you!" She dropped to the ground and searched those dark eyes of his. Her grandmother had always said eyes were the windows to a person's soul. In Matt's eyes, she saw the pain, the anguish, and the love that he had for her. It broke her heart. She had always known he'd hated to worry her, but she'd never dreamed that he was so protective as this. 

Lita took his hand in hers and rubbed it against her cheek. "Matt…please…" she begged. "Don't feel this way. We all get hurt. It's Austin's fault. It's all Austin's fault. It's not your fault that I got beaten so badly. It's not your fault what happened tonight. It's not! You're only human, Matt!" She clutched his hand tightly. "Matt, stop blaming yourself! It's tearing you apart!"

Matt's eyes flashed. "You shouldn't have gotten beaten."

"What could you have done? There was no way that you could have predicted Austin and Triple H would have come after me like that."

"I didn't worry about you enough. If I did, I would have had you stay back, so you wouldn't have gotten hurt--"

Lita cut him off. "I know you hate it when I worry, but Matt, just like you worry about me, I worry about you! That you're going to run off someday because you guilt-tripped yourself so much, or that you'll have a nervous breakdown, or you'll push yourself too hard…oh, Matt! I hate it, I hate it…please, stop it! You hate to see me worry, but you worry me so much just because of the way you worry about me." 

"It's true." Jeff knelt down next to Lita and put a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Do you have any idea how afraid we were that you would just kill yourself at times? You take so much of the pressure, and you always shoulder the blame. You never let us help you carry it."

Matt's eyes flickered. "I would never, ever abandon you guys. Ever." His quiet voice rang of total conviction. "You guys would never abandon me. I could never leave you guys."

"Oh, Matt…" Lita hugged him tightly, feeling tears threatening to come out again.

Jeff suddenly laughed. "Good grief, what a bunch of saps we are! Here we are, in the middle of the WWF hallway, during Smackdown, after our match, crying and hugging!"

"Screw them all!" Matt said, catching his brother's amusement and laughing a bit. "I don't care about what everyone else thinks."

"You never did," Lita murmered fondly. "That's what first attracted me to you."

Matt looked at her curiously. "Really?"

Lita nodded.

Matt pulled her into a hug again. "I'm so lucky to have you…" he whispered.

Lita buried her head against his shoulder. "No, I'm the one lucky to have you. You care about me so much; no one has ever cared about me like you have…" She knew she was babbling, but she didn't care. 

Jeff wrapped his arms around them both. "We're all lucky to have each other," he said lightly, but meaning every word. "But I think you two need to loosen up a little-- no, a lot, really. If we weren't all on such a roll, with me winning my title, I'd say let's take a night off, but since we are on a roll, why don't we head out for some dinner after this? I know this great little diner around the corner from here, and supposedly it's got great milkshakes."

Lita glared at him. "You mean the ones that while I drink I can actually _see_ my waistline expanding?"

Jeff shrugged. "I never said you had to have one. They have great salads too."

"Caesar salad?" Lita groaned. She loved Caesar salad. "Jeff, you're horrible. I already had dinner, and I can't eat anymore without going for an extra run--"

"Chi-cken Caesar salad," Jeff added in a sing-song voice. "Really good, roasted chicken, and the best sauce in the world…"

Lita threw up her hands in dismay. "Jeff, you know exactly what makes me give in," she said, more amused than exasperated. "It's a conspiracy, I swear. You two are trying to get me to eat too much. Not only did I have to take the day off after that crazy eat-out at In-and-Out because my stomach hurt so much, but now I'm having a fattening salad at twelve at night!"

"That eat-out was your own fault," Matt said reasonably. "You didn't have to take up Jericho's eating contest challenge. And anyway, it's all Jeff's doing. I'm innocent."

Lita gave him a knowing look. "Then who was it who was shoving the burgers in my face and yelling, 'Chug, chug, c'mon, Lita!', huh? You two egged me on the whole time against Jericho!"

"Well, it was a lost cause anyway!" Jeff protested. "I mean, have you seen how much that guy eats? Look at the difference between him and you! You weigh…uh…um…" he began to count backwards with his fingers.

Matt lightly whacked Jeff's hands. "Let's just say Jericho weighs and eats much more than you do," he said to Lita. "Hon, I'm sorry if you felt that way. It was all for fun, that's all. And you don't have to get anything tonight if you don't want to."

"Thanks, but I can afford one splurge," Lita said with a grin. "Are we on for tonight, then?"

Matt nodded. His eyes became serious once more. "I'm sorry…for worrying you both so much. I didn't think…I didn't want you guys to have to deal with all the crap."

"We're a team, Matty. We deal with the crap together." Jeff stood and danced around a bit, getting the cramps out of his legs. "I'll go get my keys. Meet you guys in the parking lot in ten?"

Matt nodded. "Sure." Jeff waved and headed off.

Lita's hand tightened around his. She turned her face towards him and touched his cheek with her other hand. "You are such an idiot at times…" she murmered to him. 

Matt's eyes sparkled as he looked at Lita and smiled. He stood and helped her up as well. "So I am. I see no crime in it."

Lita smiled back. "As long as you're Matt Hardy, I don't care if you're an idiot. I'm not leaving you, ever."

Matt pulled her close against him and ran his hand through her long red hair, loving the feel of its silkiness against his hand. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, as he cradled her head against his chest. It was as if they were trying to get as close as they could to each other, because that was how they felt-- they felt like they were one, instead of two.

Finally, Lita looked up. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked softly. "You had me and Jeff so worried before…"

He pulled back and let her see the brightness of his dark eyes, the opened window to his soul. "I'm fine. I'm just fine." It was the standard Matt answer. But this time, it was true.

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Author's Notes: I just love Matt and Lita together. Not only do their on-screen personalities match very well, but they even look good together! And Jeff is one of my favorites-- his moves are just incredible, and daredevils are just so cool. Overall, Team Xtreme rocks! But I still can't decide whether to keep on calling Lita Lita or call her by her real name, Amy. Grr.

Comments and feedback always appreciated ^^.

Ja ne! ~katanashi   
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